


Until we are left skinless

by pinkvinyls



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Bottom Anakin Skywalker, Choking, Dom/sub Undertones, Human Disaster Anakin Skywalker, M/M, Obi-Wan Kenobi is a Mess, Rough Sex, Sassy Obi-Wan Kenobi, Suitless Darth Vader, Top Obi-Wan Kenobi, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:20:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25490785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkvinyls/pseuds/pinkvinyls
Summary: Vader has dropped to his knees and he is looking up at him, head cocked to the side so that his neck is revealed. With a tense jaw and hands balled into fists, Vader stares at him, eyes burning, redder than Obi-Wan has ever seen them, so bright and dark at the same time, demanding and pleading with him, trying to pull him in.“Punish me,” Vader presses out between his clenched teeth and lowers his head, his long blond hair rains down his face.Or, what if Vaderkin kidnaps Obi-Wan and falls down into a self destructive spiral with him.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Darth Vader
Comments: 29
Kudos: 233





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> So I was in the middle of a writer's block and I had a fucked up dream and I thought, why not use it? I really love Vaderwan and I thought I would spin it around and have Obi-Wan as the dominant one. And, thus, this was created. 
> 
> I hope you'll have just as much fun reading this as I had writing it. 
> 
> And feedback is always more than welcome :))

The collar around his neck is biting into his skin, its durasteel chafing and cold, and it has dulled all the colours, the brightness, the warmth of the Force into an unfeeling, blunt grey. Another day has gone by, but it feels far longer, the hours seem to have been stretched so thin that time has stopped passing. 

It’s a dull, dull thing to be caught and kept inside a small cell. Obi-Wan has suffered through this on more than one occasion, he should be adapted to an imprisoned life by now, but the truth is that he simply hasn’t, he thinks that no one truly ever does. You learn to survive, to keep yourself as sane as possible and bait your time, waiting for release, for room to escape. 

He wishes he could at least say that he is bored, but he isn’t, not at all. No matter how long he is made to wait, just the thought of seeing his captor again fills him with too much anticipation, be it apprehension or excitement, to claim otherwise. The prospect of seeing Vader again keeps him on his toes, just the signature of the enormous Force residing in his body casts a shadow to Obi-Wan crippled senses, a fragment of what he used to feel. But now that he is cut off, he is left to satisfy that itch with the crumbs Vader throws his way. 

It’s been a while since Obi-Wan has had the chance to see him and he tries not to think about the reasons why, he tries to, only to fail, his own guilt won’t let his mind rest. How many more innocent beings are falling victim to his former Padawan’s violence, his murderous rampage, as Obi-Wan's sits here, useless and dead to the outside world? How many more Jedi are haunted, tortured and killed by Vader's hand as he is left unscathed and alive? One is more than enough to make the anger in him flare up, but his situation makes even that feel impotent and weak. 

Obi-Wan rattles against the rope wound around his wrist, testing its strength again, knowing that nothing has changed for it to weaken, but he has to do something, remind himself where he is, how he got here or else he will lose himself to the games Vader has been playing with him for weeks. 

As he closes his eyes to reach deep within himself and reach the center that allows him to remain calm and rational, he hears the hiss of the door to his cell sliding open and opens his eyes again. He straightens his back and tilts his head up, staring at the nervous trooper with curious eyes. This is new. No one but Vader has ever come to him. 

“I am here to relocate you to your new prison cell,” the trooper stammers, whatever threat Vader has made against him, its sharp blade must still hover against his neck. He stands still at the threshold, head turned to him as he waits for him to come along, weapon drawn against him. 

“First, you’ll have to free me,” Obi-Wan says, voice a low whisper as he smiles at the tropper, he leans forward and shakes his bound arm. The trooper quickly rushes inside, but not before putting his blaster out of reach, and unbinds him from his bondage, hands unsteady as he types the code. “Don’t worry, I won’t rat you out to your keeper, it’s just not my style.”

The trooper ignores him and fastens his hands together, keeping his arms locked behind his back as he drags Obi-Wan through the corridors, perhaps a bit indignant at his remark. His grip is rather painful after all.  _ A new cell, huh, _ he thinks and tries to pay attention to the way ahead, only to discard that attempt in the next moment. He is too tired and hungry and the time spent alone has left quite a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. 

They come to a halt in front of an entrance that looks nothing like the door to a prison cell, it’s simply too wide, too tall, too immaculate in its design to be considered as such. The entrance is opened and just as he takes in his new prison, he is pushed inside and locked away once again. 

Obi-Wan turns around and grows more and more uncertain. This is a bedroom, there are stuffed shelves, cabinets, wardrobes and… a bed. He takes a deep breath and notices a familiar scent in the air, faint but there. He stiffens where he stands and looks at all the small trinkets distributed around the room. Tools, repair parts, half finished droids lay discarded on the ground. 

This is Vader’s bedroom.

Oh.

_ Oh. _

How curious, what is he up to now? Obi-Wan snorts, amused by the ideas that come to his mind, and approaches the bed, the scent is the strongest here and it pulls at him, far stronger than the little parts on the ground ever could. It pulls and pulls until he finds himself lying down on the bed, turning to his side to inhale more of it. Why does it still smell of home? Of camaraderie? Why does it fill him with such an irresistible sense of  _ yearning? _

A moment to slip up, a mistake, can Obi-Wan allow himself that now? Whether or not he can afford to, he closes his eyes and pretends, just for little while, that he is back home, at the temple that no longer stands, in his room that no longer belongs to him with the one person that no longer exists. He dares not to think his name, the flood that would follow that thought would drown him in a matter of seconds, but the feel of his skin, the heat in his eyes, the drive behind his every movement, all those countless emotions colouring his voice, he can think of that and worsen his longing without breaking with it. If anything, it hardens his resolve to stand tall and strong against Vader, no matter of much he has lost because of him. 

“I see you have already found your place,” Vader says, voice flat and blunt, but there is a flare of heat to it, he can hear it in his vowels. 

Obi-Wan opens his eyes slowly and moves into a sitting position on the bed, legs stretched out on the mattress as he lifts his gaze to Vader’s face. He takes in the familiar angles, the same shadows that fall on his skin, the same dark blond hair that frames it, far longer than he has ever worn it, until he finally sees those eyes, an awful yellow, rimmed red, unnatural and abominable, revolting in its implications. The eyes of the  _ Sith. _

Vader strides forwards and approaches him on his bedside, pulling open a shelf. He takes out a rope and binds Obi-Wan’s wrist to the bed frame. He doesn’t resist as Vader works on the knot, he just faces ahead, eyes shut close again. The skin is still the same, isn’t it? The same feel, the same warmth, one small, inconsequential thing that hasn’t changed yet. What has become of him that he can derive comfort from the monster next to him? His hold on his sanity must have been slipping even more than he has thought. 

“If I am to spend an unforeseeable amount of time here, why not make myself comfortable?” Obi-Wan retorts. “I see your master has let you off your leash. Make the best of it, before he puts it back on.”

“Oh, I will,” Vader hisses, taking hold of his chin and forcing him to look him in the face. “Be sure of it.”

Obi-Wan gives him a doubtful look and turns his head to the other side, now that Vader has let go of him. “What is the meaning of this? Is staring at me from across the prison cell not enough any longer to pass your free time? What will you have us do?” He points at the collar around his neck. "Maybe you can take this off and we can duell, you do enjoy a good fight, don't you?"

"You've become very talkative. Has the loneliness perhaps caught up to you?"

"I can only return the question,  _ Vader _ ," Obi-Wan hisses his name and leans towards him. "Or why else would you waste your time with your old master? Can't your new one entertain you? Doesn’t he give you the attention you crave?" There is a saying that one should not poke at the beast that is already readying itself to pounce on you, but Obi-Wan has always had trouble following that particular line of thinking. Where is the fun in laying low and letting the beast step over you?

With one swift move, Vader has pulled him down and pushed him flat on his back, now he’s lying down prone on the mattress and staring up at the ceiling, his bound arm at an uncomfortable angle. But Vader isn’t done yet. He regards Obi-Wan with a sinister smile and his head held high, moving ever closer. Then, out of a sudden, he jumps onto the bed and directly onto his lap, legs astride his waist, caging him in. 

Vader leans down and his smile widens. “Why should I go to him, when I have you right here where I want you to be?” he whispers into his ear, licking against his earlobe. 

Obi-Wan turns his head away, scowling into the sheet next to him. “What makes you think you deserve my attention? You’ve made a choice that day, you chose him, you don’t get to have both. It doesn’t work like that, it never did, you just refused to accept it.”

Vader abruptly leans away and glares at him from above, his lips a tight angry line. He grabs Obi-Wan by his throat, not pressing down at all. “And it was the right choice.”

“Then why are you here? Go out and enjoy your new life. There’s no need visit your past.”

“You are right,” Vader whispers, his words low and rough, eyes lowered. He stands up and leaves without saying another word. 

When he is gone and Obi-Wan is finally alone again, he notices the tremor in his hands and bites down on his lips as he tries to suppress it. He’s always so shaken up after Vader’s little visits. That man wearing his Padawan’s face, speaking with his Padawan’s voice and touching him with his Padawan’s lips, how much of his former student is left in him? Too much for Obi-Wan to refuse his advances, he still aches for whatever has remained in him. He just wants his Anakin back and as much as it hurts to admit, Vader is the closest he will ever get to having him back. How pitiful, how pathetic of him.

* * *

  
  


The next time Vader shows up, there is something off about him, more than usual, that is. He is withdrawn, jittery and not at all the perfect poster boy of the Sith. There is no imposing posture, no effort made to come off as powerful. What Obi-Wan sees is just a young man, unsure and confused, but with an edge to it, a dangerous edge that could tip Vader into a murderous fit, if not handled correctly. 

He hasn’t even looked at Obi-Wan yet, he just stands there in the room, face averted as his eyes shift from one place to the other and his hand shakes as he runs it through his long hair. He palms his chest with his other hand and takes a deep breath, and then another one and another one, until they are just shallow and fast heaves. 

Obi-Wan stands up, his rope has long been substituted with metal arm rings that bind him to this room, and approaches Vader with slow and careful steps. The closer he gets to him, the more he can feel that shadow, that far echo of the Force resonate from Vader. It makes that part of him that hungers for the Force push even closer, until he stands a few measly inches away from him. 

When Obi-Wan raises his arm, an aborted movement without any clear intention, Vader pulls away, widening the distance between them. In a state like this, Vader is nothing but a bomb, one wrong move can mean destruction and the scope of it would be too great to risk it. If he explodes here, however, only he will suffer. 

And as Obi-Wan observes him further, he feels that old familiar pang, urging him to offer kind words, warm touches, comfort, but it seems that his every attempt at comfort has all been in vain and waisted, they wouldn't be here otherwise, standing across from each other, not as brothers in arms, but as enemies. So he pushes down that urge and forces himself not to see his former Padawan, but Darth Vader, the Sith Apprentice, the face of the Empire, the Slayer of the Jedi. 

Just as he is about to start speaking, he knows that he won’t be able to hold himself back, so he doesn’t even bother trying to control himself. “What has happened? Did your master not give you the praise you’ve earned after terrorizing and enslaving another planet for his Empire? Did you fail and got punished for it? What has happened, Vader? Why are you so unhappy, haven’t you brought peace and security to the galaxy?” 

He allows his taunts to be cruel and tries to poke at all the places that he knows must sting the most for Vader. Obi-Wan knows him best after all, no matter how much Vader denies it, no matter how much Obi-Wan tries to blind himself to it, the man across from him is no other than Anakin Skywalker and he knows all the buttons he has to press to rile him up. 

“How many more did you kill since I have last seen you? Your hands are so sullied with blood now, your every touch disgusts me. Looking at you disgusts me, do you understand,  _ Anakin?” _ he lashes out, voice a whisper, mean spirited and angry, feeling out of it as he loosens all and any of his inhibitions. He's been laying low for too long now, he has been far too docile in Vader’s clutches. 

Something unexpected happens, so unexpected that Obi-Wan is left open mouthed and with wide open eyes. Something so strange and bizarre that he wants to look away, but he can’t. He is caught and trapped, forced to see this with his own two eyes and the longer he stares, the more he battles with himself. He should not be reacting the way he is, should not feel that tingle of excitement in the back of his head, the twitch in his limbs, but,  _ oh, Force, _ he does and against all logic, he wants  _ more. _

Vader has dropped to his knees and he is looking up at him, head cocked to the side so that his neck is revealed. With a tense jaw and hands balled into fists, Vader stares at him, eyes burning, redder than Obi-Wan has ever seen them, so bright and dark at the same time, demanding and pleading with him, trying to pull him in. 

“Punish me,” Vader presses out between his clenched teeth and lowers his head, his long blond hair rains down his face.

  
  



	2. Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess a very crude summary of this chapter would go along the lines of Obi-Wan and Vaderkin losing their minds while fucking each other and that's basically what happens. 
> 
> I hope I did this story justice, it is my first time writing smut that isn't tender and loving, lol
> 
> Anyways, enjoy and let me know what you think :))

“Punish you?” Obi-Wan spits out. He snorts and crosses his arms, tilting his head up as he looks up at the ceiling, trying to rein himself in. He still feels those eyes on him, the intensity of Vader’s gaze doesn’t allow him to ignore it and he wants to stare back at him with the same ferocity. In the end, he lowers his head without giving Vader the satisfaction of having his gaze returned, instead he begins to circle around him and the more he corners Vader, the closer he draws his circles, the further he wants to go, the more he wants to do what Vader has asked of him. 

Just as he stands behind Vader’s wide back, he comes to a halt and leans forward, until he’s almost cheek to cheek and whispers into his ear: “How should I punish you? What punishment befits a man like you? Surely, more than I alone can dish out.”

Vader turns to him and his eyes flicker down to his lips. “Do your worst,” he says, a twisted and sharp grin splits his face. “I can take it.”

Obi-Wan draws away and walks around him and now that they are finally facing each other, he keeps his face blank and disinterested. "I have no doubts about that. But can you control yourself? Can you listen to me? Because if you don't, why should I bother playing along? I don't think I need this as much as you do. I think the worst thing I can do to you is to refuse to acknowledge even your existence."

Vader's glare intensifies, eyes narrowed to slits and mouth sneering with contempt. "You are just as incapable of ignoring me as I am," he bites out, averting his eyes again.

Obi-Wan allows himself to show a small, resentful smile. "You forced my hand. You are my captor, it would be unhealthy of me to ignore you wholly. I do want to get out of here sometime."

"You won't," Vader says, his eyes shot up, their yellow burns into him, and his shoulders have become even more tense and stiff. The shadow that Obi-Wan has learned to be the Force grows into something darker, something more distinct. "You are mine now, no one will take you from me. Not even you, but you can take your anger out on me."

Obi-Wan furrows his brows and narrows his eyes as he regards Vader with derision. His contempt grows the longer he is faced with that yellow. How can he bring himself to touch him, when he is nothing but a reminder of what, of who he has lost? A reminder of the betrayal he has suffered? A reminder of his failure? He doesn't want to see it any longer, he can't take it anymore.

"Close your eyes first or I won't touch you," Obi-Wan commands. "There are a few more conditions. Within these four walls, I am the one in control. When I tell you something, you follow that order. Or you can just cut to the chase and kill me now or throw me back into that cell, whatever you prefer."

"Fine," Vader agrees, but not without moving closer and showing his teeth with another one of his sneering grins, spiteful and bitter. He keeps his eyes open, still such a damn brat. "How shall I call you? Master perhaps?"

Obi-Wan steps forward and fists Vader's hair, forcing his head up. "No, never dare say that word to me again. I have a name, use it."

Amusement flickers in Vader's eyes and Obi-Wan wants nothing but to stomp that flicker down. The brutal strength of this desire leaves him feeling out of depth, breathless and confused.

"I told you to close your eyes," he says, hoping for his thirst for violence to cease. “And don’t dare touch me without me giving you the permission to do so.”

Vader complies and soon his eyes are finally shut close. The grin falls from his lips and the tension leaves his face until nothing but a blank mask remains.

Obi-Wan lets go of his hair and glides his fingers over Vader's features, from his eyes down the line of his cheekbones until he comes to rest on those red, plump lips. He knows every little detail of this face, can recall it in its entirety with such ease that it lives in his mind, alive and whole. It plays across his eyes constantly, demanding his attention without reprieve. He is hunted by the memory of Anakin, brilliant and kind, reckless and full of light. 

The ghost in front of him, this pale imitation has burned it all out until all that Obi-Wan has ever had, has ever loved has become ash, clinging to his skin, choking him with every breath. He wants Vader to be left breathless as well, to make him regret and repent, to make him suffer, but looking at him now, all that he can see and feel is Anakin. 

“You can open your eyes again,” he demands, correcting himself, and that yellow, the fire in them, the violence and hatred simmering in those eyes make the thought of punishing him as exciting as before. 

Staring into that yellow, he dips his finger into the warm, wet cavern of Vader's mouth, meeting no resistance as he presses his finger deeper, and adds a second one, slowly thrusting in and out, eyes fixed on Vader's skin, now slowly flushing red with heat. Vader is so compliant now under his hands, down on his knees, staring up at him with barely concealed desperation. It makes his skin tingle and blood rush south.

Obi-Wan removes his hands and undoes the bindings of his leggings, allowing it to fall to the ground, he steps closer to Vader, until his freed cock hangs right in front of his face, heavy and flushed. “Open your mouth,” he whispers lowly.

Vader does so without a moment's hesitation and remains still otherwise, waiting for more commands to follow before making his next move, but Obi-Wan can see the impending tension, the longer he remains silent, the longer he makes Vader wait with his mouth open and still untouched, the more whatever facade Vader has built begins to crumble. He is unraveling right in front of Obi-Wan’s eyes, arms tense, hands balled into fists as they shake next to his body. 

Obi-Wan waits and waits, until Vader is forced to bend his back. “Please,” he hisses, head averted slightly as he glares at him from under his furrowed eyebrows, a few strands of his long hair have fallen into his face. What an utter mess this man has become, it would be pitiful, if Obi-Wan didn’t know exactly what role he has played in the demise of the galaxy. 

He brushes the few, stray locks away from Vader’s face and grabs his cock, letting it rest on his face. Obi-Wan rubs it across his skin, slowly gliding up and down, before he puts the tip of it against Vader’s lips, who quickly begins to lick and toy with it, sucking and tasting whatever Obi-Wan gives him. 

With one quick and merciless thrust, he forces most of his length into Vader’s mouth, hitting the back of his throat and making him gag with it, he feels him convulsing around his cock, trying to adjust to the width and length of it and Obi-Wan knows from experience that he is anything but easy to take, but still he persists, there’s no need to give him the same consideration his partners usually receive from him, no need to be careful, to hold himself back. He is here to take and take and Vader has offered himself up for it.

With the hand that’s still resting on Vader’s head, he grabs a fistful of his hair and pulls him away, leaving him heaving and gasping on the ground, unable to collect himself. 

“I wonder what your master would say, if he could see you like this, if he could see you willingly degrading yourself in front of your own captive,” Obi-Wan says, a pleased smile twisting at his lips. Without giving Vader the opportunity to talk back, he forces himself back into that hot, wet mouth. “Or what about all those generals and commanders you love to complain about, how fast would their fear for you vanish, were they to see you kneel like this for me, slobbering on my cock?”

Vader grabs him by his thighs, fingers burying into his flesh, a painful sting that only kindles the fire already burning within him, a bright thing that lights up his entire being after countless days spend in dull and boring darkness. This has to be madness, he thinks as he begins to thrust in earnest, fucking Vader's mouth with abandon. The sounds Vader inevitably makes as he is forced to choke on his cock fill the room and echo off the walls, but Obi-Wan barely hears them, he can only focus on Vader’s lips spread taut around him, on the tears that begin to leak from his yellow eyes, and can only quicken his pace, forgetting himself as he chases after his own pleasure. 

When he feels himself coming close to that edge, he stills and keeps Vader pressed against his pelvis, so that his whole length is surrounded by the wet and tight heat of Vader’s throat. As he feels his impending orgasm come upon him, he pulls out with a low grunt and watches his cum splatter across Vader’s face, painting him in white, mingling with the tears still gliding down his cheeks.

Obi-Wan takes a step back when the last of his cum has landed on Vader's skin and enjoys the debauched sight in front of him from afar. Vader licks away the cum on his lips and wipes away the few stray drops around his eye, taking his stained fingers into his mouth to clean them off.

His gaze trails down the line of Vader's body and when he notices the visible tent in his pants, he can't help the the no doubt arrogant smile he gives Vader. He raises his leg and presses down on the erection with the front of his boot. "Is it really punishment if you end up enjoying it so much?"

Vader begins to laugh, the shrill sound catches him off guard. "Is it really disgust you feel when you touch me? Was is disgust that made you lose control? Is the mark you left on my skin a testament of this disgust you spoke of? I think it's just plain old pleasure, don't you agree? You still desire me, you'll want me no matter what I do, won't you, Obi-Wan?" His voice is rough and used as he speaks, but still his words sound delighted, overjoyed, as delirious as on that burning planet. 

"You got me," Obi-Wan admits, forcing his voice to remain calm and neutral. "But it is not you I desire, not you that I want and I think we both know this. I simply used what is left of you, nothing more and nothing less, and now that I have no use of you any longer, you are dismissed."

After pulling his leggings back up, Obi-Wan turns around without looking back, afraid of having his resolve crumble when faced with Vader's joy, he doesn't want to deal with the fallout of his actions, so he rushes into the refresher and locks the door behind him. Right across from him, the mirror shows him his reflection, a reflection he has evaded over the weeks he's been imprisoned. It stares back at him and it finds nothing but a stranger. 

Obi-Wan stumbles towards the reflection and his fingers come to rest on its face. How much of it will he lose, how much more will it change, while he’s caught up in Vader’s web?

* * *

  
  


“Do you want me to tie my hair up?” Vader asks, as he stands in front of the bathroom mirror, brushing his hair that still drops water, from a shower or rain, he doesn’t know. Obi-Wan finds the banality of it maddening, he doesn’t want to be a part of this, to see him do such trivial things. “Or do you prefer to have my hair down? What do you say, Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan ignores him and tries to keep Vader’s voice out of his head, but it simply can’t be held out, it reaches him wherever he escapes to, no image, no sound, no memory is free of it. There’s no way to tune it out, his whole existence has been reduced to this, playtime with the most feared monster of this galaxy. It’s ridiculous, shameful even, but it has become the center of his life, the only thing that makes him feel alive, his only connection to the Force, no matter of weak, how slight. 

He fears he might have become addicted to it, but what choice does he have trapped in this room, within these same four falls with no company other than Vader? What alternative is there? One way or another, he is doomed to madness, so why shouldn’t he play along?

It’s just that he misses the feel of the sun against his skin, the soft coldness of rain gliding down his face, the fresh breeze found on a wide meadow, he misses how it all resonates in the Force, such a bright and warm thing and he can barely recall the feel of it. It feels so far away, he’s missing limbs, flesh has been cut from him and the gaping wounds fester and crust over, but the emptiness remains. No matter how much his mind tries to fill it with whatever Vader offers him, Obi-Wan knows it’s never going to be enough. 

“Leave me alone,” he barks out, bringing his fists down to punch the mattress. A moment later, he adds, resigned: “Don’t act stupid, just take your clothes off.”

Vader strolls back into the bedroom and raises a brow at him, eyes twinkling with mirth. “What? I thought you liked this sort of thing?”

Obi-Wan palms his face and glares at him from above his hand. He begins to rattle against the bed frame, Vader has fallen back into the habit of binding his wrist to it after another one of his failed attempts to escape. He pulls and pushes, but it doesn’t give in. 

“There’s no escape, I’ve told you so much already. Are you angry?” Vader asks as falls to his knees at the foot end of the bed. 

“Is that what you want?” Obi-Wan replies, head tilted back as he glares down at him. 

“Then let it out on me. You can hit me. You can kick me. You can slice me open,” Vader whispers, voice growing light and soft. “You can do whatever you want to me.” He crawls onto the bed and into his lap, undoing the rope around his wrist. 

The moment he is free, Obi-Wan grabs Vader by his neck and turns him around, pressing him into the mattress with his face down. Without much preamble, he takes his cock out of his leggings and affords himself a few aborted jerks before he plunges into that tight, dry ass with his arm wound around Vader’s neck. When he begins to slide in and out, slow and shallow thrusts into that resisting hole, he brushes over Vader’s long, wet hair and whispers into his ear, right at a particularly brutal thrust: “I like your hair loose. Remember that.”

From where Vader’s head is turned to the side, Obi-Wan can see his yellow eyes widen and watches his gaze become unfocused, blank. “It hurts,” he croaks out, biting into his hand and grabbing at the bedsheet. 

“You like the pain, don’t you?” Obi-Wan remarks, pressing further into that tight, clenching channel, and watches Vader’s face become contorted with pain, brows furrowed and nose scrunched up and eyes shut tightly close. Tears begin to glide down his skin, falling to the mattress beneath, and pained grunts fall from his lips. 

Obi-Wan feels his own eyes widen, feels himself grow stiff and numb and Vader just remains so painfully silent, no bite, no defiance, just this mindless obedience. He pulls out immediately and pushes himself off of Vader’s back. He stands up from the bed and stares down at Vader’s prone body. “I like you better when you’re crude,” he shouts, anger colouring his words and making them sharp. “Remember that. Your master likes this sort of thing.”

Vader turns to him and fixes his eyes on Obi-Wan’s. With a cynical smile, he replies: “Indeed, he does.”

Although this is Obi-Wan’s everything, for Vader, his loyalty, his devotion, his obedience, it’s nothing but a whim. 

* * *

Obi-Wan feels the bone deep ache in his body, the exhaustion dragging him under and numbing him, until he’s almost capable of sleep. It’s the kind of tiredness he only achieves after vigorous exercise and that’s exactly what he has been doing, he only stopped, because his body couldn’t keep up with him any longer. 

It's the only way he knows how to pass his time here, when he's all alone. He never knows if it's day or night, if it's cold or warm outside, if the sun shines or clouds have blocked that light. Is the sky still the same? Does rain still fall from it? Does wind still flow through the air? He wants to know, he fears the answers, but he knows that he will never receive them.

Vader wants him like this, half mad, half dead and completely lost. Obi-Wan is allowed no one else, nothing else but him. Vader wants to kill him, not physically, but everything that makes him human, alive, until he only needs Vader, until he only wants him and nothing else.

It makes Obi-Wan want to kill him before Vader has the chance to annihilate him completely. It makes him angry and spiteful and restless. It torments him. He needs to kill him, he knows that.

But...

But it's becoming harder to tolerate, to acknowledge the discrepancy between Vader and who he used to be. They have merged so much, that his beloved Anakin shines through sometimes. When Vader is calm, not because he's relaxed - he never is -, but because he's tired, hurting and confused, that's when Obi-Wan could swear to see that old familiar blue again, only for it be replaced by that cruel, hateful yellow in the next second.

Maybe Obi-Wan is no longer half mad, but fully insane, lost in the maze of Vader’s keep, caught in his web.

* * *

  
  


When Vader enters the room, he reeks of blood and destruction and something dark and sinister surrounds him, the shadow has become pitch black, the echo a shrill, ear splitting wave that crashes against his skull. He storms inside, wrathful and blusterous. Vader’s rage is barely contained as he glares at him, the shelves and cabinets, everything in the room begins to shake, but Obi-Wan remains steadfast, eyes fixed on the tattered clothes, the multiple wounds on Vader’s arms and face. 

The burns and cuts are injuries caused by lightsabers, by  _ Jedi. _

“Now I know what took you so long,” Obi-Wan says derisively and leans back against the bed frame, he holds his head upright and puts his hands behind it without leaning against them, his elbows flared. “After having done your master’s bidding and hunting the very people who raised you, you return to me. What will you have me do today? I’m growing very tired of this game, you know, so very tired.”

Vader ignores him, but his face is blown full with rage, pressing against his skin from the inside out, held back by stubborn teeth. “Your tiredness will come to pass, everything does,” he says in the end, staring not at Obi-Wan, but at the wall behind him, right above his head. 

“No, not everything comes to pass. Some of your choices thread through future and time, they can change the marrow of the world and change the course of a century. You’ve made such a choice and helped lead the world into ruin. I’ve made a choice when I failed to strike you down, when I couldn’t kill you and now we’re stuck here, each one of us suffering the consequences of our actions.”

“There are ways to correct past mistakes,” Vader replies dubiously, voice quiet but sharp and angry as he averts his eyes. 

“Yes, there are and you have chosen to erase your past by destroying everything that remains from your old life.”

“Everything, but you,” Vader admits and begins to slowly pull out of his robes, until he stands nude, wide and large bruises colour his skin wherever Obi-Wan looks. He has become more and more reckless, hasn’t he?

Obi-Wan gives an angry snort. “Day by day, with every visit, you chip away at me. Must destruction only be fast and immediate? Can’t it be a slow, almost unrecognizable process?”

“Do you think I like being like this? Unable to let you go, unable to kill you, unable to do anything,” Vader hisses and jumps onto the bed, pulling Obi-Wan down to sit over his stomach. He packs Obi-Wan’s arms and pins them down to the bed and lowers his face until they are almost touching. “If I can kill you, he will die too,” Vader whispers against his lips, “but I can’t. You’re the only one capable of putting an end to this.”

“And whose fault is that?” Obi-Wan bites back, bringing their foreheads together with enough force for it to hurt. 

Vader smiles at him and remains silent as he pushes Obi-Wan’s leggings down and rips his robe open. He begins to kiss and bite at his neck, dragging his lips lower to nip at his chest, rubbing the nub of his nipples between his teeth. Obi-Wan bites down on his lower lip, holding the little sighs that want to escape back, and watches as Vader continues to work his way down. 

“Ride me,” Obi-Wan orders, left wondering why he’s still playing along.

“With pleasure,” Vader replies and rises from his chest, sitting astride his waist and putting his hand behind his back to grab Obi-Wan’s cock, positioning it right beneath his ass. 

Obi-Wan leans down into the mattress and crosses his arms behind his neck, closing his eyes as he feels Vader press down on him. At least he can just lie down and not move an inch, at least he can blind himself to what is happening and pretend to be somewhere else, somewhere safe and warm, pretend that the body moving above him is still the same as all those years ago. Of course, Vader won’t even let him have this small escape.

“My last mission was a great success,” Vader groans out as he thrusts down, moving his hips in small circles when he’s pressed flat against his pelvis. He lowers himself until they are chest to chest, head nuzzled in Obi-Wan’s neck. “I found a pair of Jedi, a Master and his young Padawan. They were hiding on an outer-rim planet, but Imperial agents found them and my Master sent me after them.”

“Shut up,” Obi-Wan spits out, grabbing Vader by his thighs and burying his nails deep enough into his flesh to make him bleed. 

“You should have seen how desperate the Master was as he fought against me, I even gave him a head start and allowed his hits to land on me, but he was weak in the end, like all Jedi are, and he died, like all Jedi do, clinging to my leg with his useless hands to keep me from going after his Padawan.”

Obi-Wan is only able to take harsh and fast breaths as he scowls up at the monster who is still engulfing him, ripples of muscles tightening and loosening around him, swallowing him whole, devouring him with every push and pull, with every thrust. He has to resist, to throw the monster under before he is the one to drown.

“Finding the Padawan was easy, she hid herself not far from the place I had killed her Master, she probably watched as I impaled him, but her fear kept her from coming to his aid. I let her run away, made her think that she could escape, I gave her hope only to crush it to the ground when I cut her off her escape path. I killed her like I did her master. And I'll kill each and every Jedi that managed to survive.”

With an angry roar, Obi-Wan rises from his prone position and attacks the monster on top of him, hands reaching for his throat and as soon as he has them wrapped around his neck, Obi-Wan shoves him off his lap and down onto the bed, forcing him on his back, his cock still nestled deep into him, piercing him to the bed as he presses down on the monster's throat. 

“Finish me off,” the monster croaks out, fingers scratching at Obi-Wan throat, before he slaps them away and they come to grip at Obi-Wan hands, holding them tight around his throat. A sudden burst of power, of light takes hold of him, he feels as if he has come off the blind end and now life is rushing back into him, filling every inch of his body.

The monster's eyes shine with a bright yellow, clear and gleaming as he begins to smile up at him, a delirious grin that shows teeth. He’s burning right beneath Obi-Wan’s fingers, hot and stretched taut around his aching cock. “Please, kill me,” he presses out, still smiling that mad grin as his face morphs into a pained grimace, tears streaming down his skin. Then he says, with a voice so familiar to him, so known and precious: “Kill me, Master, do it please!”

Obi-Wan’s hands tighten even more and he presses as deeply as possible into Anakin, using everything he can to pin the body beneath him down. He keeps bearing down on him, squeezing the air out of his lungs, strangling the life out of him, unable to see past the blur of his tears. And soon Anakin becomes stiff, unmoving, limbs falling limp to the mattress. 

He jumps back and mindlessly pulls his leggings back up as he stares down at the listless body of Anakin, waiting for him to move, for his chest to heave up and down, but nothing,  _ nothing _ happens. “No,  _ no _ ,  _ no, _ ” he whispers into thin air, swaying back and forth as he rattles against Anakin. He stands up from the bed and stumbles around it, sitting down once he stands in front of Anakin’s head, cradling it in his hands. He leans down and waits and waits and when he feels that first brush of air against his skin, he falls into himself, crumbling down. 

When he’s certain that Anakin still lives, he stumbles away from the bed until his back hits a wall, he slides down against it, falling to the ground, legs stretched in front of him and gaze fixed on the man he strangled, he almost killed. Obi-Wan balls his hands into fists and forces himself to take his eyes off of him, moving his gaze across the room, reminding himself of where he is, why he is here and how he got here. This wasn’t his ship, this wasn’t his camp, this wasn’t his home, it never was. This is his prison, his Sith-made hell. He must not forget, he is not allowed to, not again and now that the shadow, the reflection has become flesh and bone again, the haze is not as impenetrable as before. 

And the man on the bed, that’s not his Anakin, not the boy he raised and trained, but Darth Vader, the Sith Apprentice, the face of the Empire, the Slayer of the Jedi and whatever has remained of Anakin to this day, that part of Vader wanted nothing but to die. This whole game, death has been its aim from the very beginning, death by his old Master’s hand, but Obi-Wan has once again been unable to kill his old student, he failed again. 

Leaning against the wall, he slowly stands up and feels for the collar around his neck, finding nothing but tender and irritated skin. And when he turns to the door, right to his left, he sees his lightsaber and a keycard. He looks back at Vader, shock and confusion making him hesitate. 

He puts the keycard into his leggings and grabs the lightsaber, focusing on the feel of it, its weight in his hand, before he puts that away as well. He walks up to the exit, its door unlocked, and stands still. If Obi-Wan wants to, he can leave and get out of this keep alive. He is… he is free. 

After one step forward, he falters, hand coming to rest on the door frame. 

There is only one step left, one step separating him from freedom. He has to take it, he has no other option, it’s the only right choice, even if he has fallen low enough that he wants nothing more than to stay. 

With every painful step forward, he feels the threads of Vader’s web biting into his skin, burying deeper into his flesh until they are stretched so taut and thin that they break off. 


End file.
